


Heavy

by Daerwyn



Series: A Collection of Drabbles by Helmaninquiel [29]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Birthing Complications, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble Games #20 & #29. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” & “I thought you were dead.”</p><p>Warning: Dad Joke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy

He had been pacing outside of your chambers for hours now, listening to your cries and wincing as every scream seemed to stab him deeply in a gut. All of the Dunedains, for generations, had been born in Rivendell. It was why they had ridden here when you first began to show. Tradition. And despite you wishing to remain in the once great kingdom of Aragorn’s ancestors, you had agreed that Rivendell was at least safe to live in until the child was old enough to ride.

But the birth was being difficult, just to spite the both of you. You had been in labor for so long, Aragorn could feel nothing but the burn of his eyes as he fought of his exhaustion with his adrenaline. The cries cut off so suddenly that he felt like he had been dosed into cold water, and there was a flurry of movement from inside, and this was the moment. This was it.

But as the door opened to the room, it was very slowly, as if delaying awful news. “Lord Aragorn,” the elf spoke softly. That tone.

“It cannot be,” Aragorn felt tumble from his lips. And he stumbled until he leaned heavily against the wall.

“She began to bleed. We were able to stop it, but she lost so much…” Aragorn closed his eyes, and it felt as if his world was crashing around him. As if Rivendell had collapsed under its ancient architecture and buried him alive. “She’s unconscious. We’re doing everything we can, Lord Aragorn.”

His eyes opened. “She still lives?” The elf gave a nod. And Aragorn sagged in relief. “And… the child?”

“Well,” the elf maiden promised. “You may see him.” A boy. Aragorn stepped into the room, the elf maiden shutting the door behind him. You were laying in the bed, the blankets haphazardly around you,  and a pale sheen was on your skin, as you had worked up a sweat. You looked deathly. Your eyes shut, no color at all.

His steps felt slow as he went to your side, before he crashed to his knees, taking your limp hand, and clutching it tightly. He could feel the weak pulse, and as he lifted it to his lips, he hoped your eyes would open. He just wanted you to see your son, if you were to finally go. You deserved such a privilege. He kissed at your knuckles, and leaned forward, his hand running through your hair soothingly. “ **You need to wake up,** ” he murmured, his voice cracking at the tears that welled unbidden into his eyes. “ **Because I can’t do this without you.** ”

But you did not respond, and the elf maid that had let him into the room seemed to let him have his moment before she stepped forward with a quiet bundle in her arms. “Your son, Lord Aragorn. He takes after you.” Aragorn rose, his breath leaving him as he took the small child. He was a tiny thing, but Aragorn did not see himself in the child. He saw you. Everything from the eyes to the content smile rang of your complexion.

“Thank you,” Aragorn said quietly to her, and he sat down heavily on the bedside, careful of your form. “Look, Y/N, he’s beautiful…” The words were on deaf ears, and Aragorn clutched the child close as if it was the last he had of your life, and wept.

A wet nurse tended to the child while Lord Elrond forcibly removed Aragorn from the room, so that he could get some air and some food. “She may wake, yes, but she would be disheartened if she knew you did not get out,” Lord Elrond spoke.

“Will she?” Aragorn questioned. “Will she wake? You can see-”

“I have tried,” Lord Elrond said quietly, comfortingly. “But I cannot see the outcome. It is as if a decision has yet to be made. Sometimes, fate is too fragile to predict.” Aragorn leaned against the rail of the balcony, his head falling into his hands.

“I cannot let her die. She cannot.” Lord Elrond’s hand touched Aragorn’s shoulder in comfort. “I made a promise to her father that I would not let misfortune befall her. And I have caused the greatest misfortune of all-”

“Elrohir knows that these matters are tricky. He is my son, and even though he is immortal, he knows that she has chosen a mortal life with you.” Aragorn swallowed back his grief. “Her mother was a mortal long ago, who forbade my son from giving up the immortality within him, so that he could care for her. None of us knew that she would pass in the birth. If anyone knows the hardships labor can bring that is not a woman, it would be my son. You must have faith that she will endure.”

“I do,” Aragorn said brokenly. “But I have spent my entire life with her. From the moment I came to Rivendell to now. And I could not bear to have a gap in my life that I could never be able to fill. She is far too sacred to me to even consider replacing.”

“She’s my granddaughter, and I know that is true. She will endure. She has so far. If she were to give up, she would not have fought for so long.” Lord Elrond removed his hand and gave a small nod. “Elrohir will be returning from Lorien soon. He was scheduled to arrive tomorrow, but I sent a rider to intercept and tell him of the news.” Aragorn nodded. “Once you have eaten, you can return to her.”

“She will wake,” Aragorn murmured, and he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

He remained by your side, a chair pulled up by your head, and he would run his hands through your hair as you breathed shallowly. He willed it in his head with every breath that you would wake. That your eyes would flutter open.

He had refused to name the child until you saw him first. He wanted the child to have a name that you liked just as well. And so the child was simply known as the Little Prince.

Aragorn was so encompassed with crying in his head “wake up!” that he did not notice someone enter the room. “She looks better than I had envisioned.” Aragorn snapped his head up, seeing your father, Elrohir. He was the spitting image of Lord Elrond, and Aragorn rose from his seat, almost relieved to see him. “How long has it been?”

“Almost a week,” Aragorn spoke. Elrohir walked quietly to your side, and Aragorn took a step back to allow him some room. The ruggid elf was not entirely conventional. And his appearance was that of a common man rather than an elven prince. But Elrohir took your hand tenderly, as Aragorn had done, and sighed.

“She is cold.”

“She lost a lot of blood,” Aragorn said quietly. “They would not tell me how much.” Aragorn watched the father with his daughter. “Our son is being tended to by a wet nurse, but he should be here shortly.”

“A son?” Elrohir bowed his head. “And there is yet a name?”

“I could not name him without her.” You and Aragorn had always differed on names. He would let you pick any name you wished, even if it meant gardener in elvish. It was yours to choose.

“I will sit with you two. And perhaps she will wake soon.”

But you did not stir for another week, your stomach growling. Aragorn first noticed when the grip he had on your hand suddenly tightened and he jerked out of his sleep, causing Elrohir to stir from his still form as well. “Y/N?” Aragorn asked quietly. You blinked slowly, and when you saw him, you gave him a tired smile.

“My love,” you murmured. “Do not look so glum.”

“You’ve been asleep for weeks,” Aragorn murmured. But he gave you a relieved smile, and kissed the hand clutched between both of his own. “It is so good to see you smile once more.”

Your head turned groggily to the figure on your otherside. “Ada…”

“Shhh, lie still. You’re alright now. The worst is over.” But you looked confused and rubbed at your eyes with your free hand, before trying to sit up, panic seizing you. “The child!”

“Is well,” Aragorn assured you. “He’s healthy and he takes after us both. He’s sleeping, but I will go get him.”

“Stay,” Elrohir said quietly. “I will go.”

You gave him a smile in gratitude, before sitting up with the help of Aragorn. It was only when the door shut did you realize that Aragorn had tears in his eyes. “My love-”

“ **I thought you were dead** ,” he whispered. “I thought you were dying and no one could do anything to stop it.” You reached out to him, and your palms rested on either side of his cheeks.

“I can never leave you behind. You have not been sleeping well… Aragorn,” you murmured in disapproval. He gave a wry smile. “And you look as though you have not seen the sun in weeks!”

“I have not left your side save for when Lord Elrond and Lord Elrohir physically removed me.” You felt a watery smile grace your face. “Our son is beautiful. Strong and he sleeps so soundly.” You wanted to hear more.

“His name?”

“I did not know which name you preferred. He has no name until you decide.” You gave him a small laugh, and released him.

“Any name I prefer?”

“Within reason,” he felt the need to add. You giggled softly and glanced up as the door opened once more. Your father stood there in plain robes, but the bundle of cloth was fine silks. And you gently held out your arms, accepting it.

“He’s heavy,” you blurted as you sat him down in your lap, adjusting your arms.

“Hello, Heavy,” Aragorn said quietly. “I’m your father.”

“Oh, for the love of the Valar, Aragorn, that wasn’t the name!” you got out between laughs. You couldn’t stop your giggles though, as you ran a thumb over your son’s chubby cheeks. “Ellumadil.”

“Heavy star?”

“A big star,” you turned. “Full of much love and happiness.” Aragorn gave a nod of approval. And you glanced down to the boy in your lap. Your own star as precious as the sun.


End file.
